


According

by Oscarthegrouch



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: #HannibalGoreFest, Abduction, Alcohol, Anal Sex, Attempted Murder, Attempted Necrophilia, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Bad Stuff as Lube, Bottom Hannibal Lecter, Come Eating, Cute Ending, Dark Will Graham, Dead Body Part, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Decay, Dirty Talk, M/M, Masturbation, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Orgasm Denial, Strangulation, alternative meetings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-30 03:38:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20807915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oscarthegrouch/pseuds/Oscarthegrouch
Summary: Will likes his partners docile. Very docile. He's ready to make the big jump. He just needs to find the perfect prey.





	According

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure it's gore, maybe more nasty? I have the vanilla curse. I might do an alternative part two with a role reversal (aka Will, bottoming and terrified).  
As for the lube @callmenephila and @stratumgermani1 talked about phlegm, dead bodies and body fat as such...I got inspired.

**Prologue**

It's just like they said. When it's the right one you know it. His hands tremble lightly, at the anticipation but mayhap also the fear. He never went this far. It is new territory and he isn't exactly comfortable threading outside of his secure zone.

The opportunity cannot be missed though. He knows that from previous experience. When each piece of the puzzle is presented to you at for front, it's foolish to expect a repeat, soon anyway.

So Will tries, though his nerves make him sweat too much for an autumn night, to quieten his thoughts and enter in action. Afterall, he went over this time and time again. Had visualized, fantasied, imagined. He knows the faces, the anatomy, the whole damn play. He wrote it.

..

The smell of water perked up in the air, Hannibal, from the presence of the humidity's musk predicts an impending drizzle. The sky is dressed in grey, the lights are weakly casting yellow halos. There is a victorianesk aura floating around, almost Gothic. He would appreciate it far more if his favored era wasn't a century later. Cautiously he frees his hands from the leather gloves, folding them in the long pockets of his silver overall.

As he lifts his head back up he's greeted by the figure of a tall man, dressed in a tweed jacket and soft brown pants. He stares because he can and he wants to. Afterall life's opportunities mustn't be miffed. The arch of the nostrils and the prognathous chin, though unpleasant in most physiognomies, here create a compelling harmony. His face looks purposefully carved. When most visages merely resemble a gamble on nature's part, this one looked intended, magnificent.

It showed, how much he enjoyed the stranger's physique and air. The twitch and momentary freeze of the other were good indicators. Though the prey didn't remain static for long. When the man came closer, Hannibal's surprise caused him to smile.

He appeared to be clutching in a tight grip a map of Baltimore city. His voice came hushed, it too, too tight. Nervous and awkward as though performing when he was only asking for directions in a British accent, which he possibly identified as western. His articulation didn't suffer from the speed of his speech and Hannibal was pleased further at the politeness and presentation the man made. The contradiction in his planted feet yet anxious voice inviting his curiosity.

Just as predicted, the rain started to fall in small frenetic drops that were soon blurring out the eyes of the Brit behind their frames. Hannibal did not possess and umbrella to offer him cover and his Bentley lay in his garage where he had left it, preferring to walk in the crisp autumn air to run his errands.

He regretted that now, as he wished he had an excuse to stay with the man longer, his blood would provide a grand delight if the smell coming off of his exposed face and throat, amplified by the rain, went by anything.

Luckily, Hannibal knew an avant-garde café not far away. The stranger seemed upset by the rain, like it would delay him, but otherwise remind firmly in front of him, seemingly still waiting for his directions.

Hannibal casually marched forward, throwing an expectant look his way. He offered to take him to the Baltimore Maritime Museum after showing him the delightful place. ''Not typically American I'm afraid'' he confessed ''But if you crossed the sea , I expect it was in the hopes of finding wonders, their nationality might not be as much of importance to you if you focus on the pleasure of discovery.''

His voice was paced and suave in the hopes of enticing the foreigner who looked startled, caught in the headlights, for a moment.

Hannibal guessed that his anxious nature caused him to plan his every move and that slight hindrances were bound to bring unease.

However he quickly regained his composure, even straightening himself up and finally, caught up with him. Hannibal grinned, wondering what plan would form in his own mind. He didn't know what he wanted to do with him yet. His thoughts got distracted by the wolfish grin that appeared on the other's face. The triumph in it alarming if he hadn't known himself better. After all he was the Chesapeake Ripper.

**Logue**

He awoke painfully slowly. Disoriented and blinded by the pillow pressed against his face. He would have moved if in his ears he couldn't hear the ragged breathing of another human being. A curse word was muttered several times, ''fuck'' was said in a distressed and angry matter.

He stayed immobile and gentled his breathing to a minimum. Staying spread eagled on the rough sheets wasn't too much of a feat, the bitter taste in his mouth and the pain at the back of his neck were all too compelling.

The lack of oxygen and light had him seeing starlights blinking on in off, disoriented, he let them distract him for a time, before reality snapped back in the form of the loud and distinctive click off a camera.

''Look at you.''

Hannibal did understand that he was laying very naked with a stranger looming over him. From the sound of it, he too was naked : when he moved around on the mattress, as he shifted his weight, Hannibal couldn't hear the sound of fabric.

From the wet feeling he had over his belly and ear, he guessed he had been having his fun for a while now. Though for how long he couldn't tell. His throat was uncommonly parched.

The sudden weight of a palm splayed in between his two pectoral nearly made him jump. His heart picked up a pace, though the other seemed too distracted to notice. He was curling and uncurling his fingers in his chest hair, muttering vulgar words in time. His breath was quick and short, loud, definitely aroused. Probably fondeling himself.

It was hard to find himself shy, after all he was the only decent person in the room. The other seemingly lost in his fantasy now that he thought Hannibal unconscious. He heard another click, and had only a fraction of a second to withhold his breath as the pillow was lifted from his face.

He laid there, trying to seem senseless, hardly twitching an eyelash as a burning palm cupped his left side, gripping momentarily at the bone, thumb suddenly pressing to feel the teeth from the outside at the same time as a harsh exhale left the man's lips.

''You're so perfect, so beautiful.'' he murmured, leaning over, curls touching Hannibal's forehead. The thumb left his cheek to get in the mouth. The stranger's voice, whom now he identified as the ''British'' man's, definitely had an American accent, groaned in complaint as he felt the warmth inside. ''I can't wait for you to be cold'' he whispered.

He couldn't help but smile internally, appreciative of the fake Brit's manipulation, which had worked wonders. He was curious as to what he would do to his body after, and how, though he started to suspect strongly that the stranger hadn't intended on him being comatose, rather dead.

_Wrong execution of plan_, he tsked in his mind. The amateur hadn't checked properly his vitals.

''You know'' he confessed in his ear, legs rubbing against his, ''this is my first time, I'm a bit nervous.'' he then proceeded to lean forward and lay the whole length of his body on top of Hannibal's, so that they were touching from toes to shoulder. It was rather possessive of him.

Hannibal felt the other start to tremor. Now, their coupling resembled more an embrace. The tremors improved in intensity, moving them both as the other shuttered helplessly.

To have fallen in the hands of a debutant was endearing but to have nearly died at his unpracticed hands ...that on the other hand didn't sit well with him, not at all. He was starting to get bored and the room wasn't well heated. He pondered on getting up, distracting himself as he hesitated on the scent of arousal, sweat and linen.

The tremors seemed to calm. The man got up and stared at Hannibal's closed eyes and slack mouth. ''You're my bitch now, I'm going to do whatever I want to you.'' he declared petulantly ; like a child who's candy had been refused too long.

Hannibal's legs were seized and bent to his shoulders. It felt awkward, having to imitate limpness. It was harder and harder not to breath louder or to react to the naked young body that was hovering over his.

Apparently he wasn't too intent on lube or protection, Hannibal almost said something though he guessed he could get treatment the next day as a precaution. His anus was breached by the same thumb that had caressed his mouth. ''You have such a nice hole, I love you hair'' he said emphasizing on his thoughts by pulling at a few black curling hairs. Hannibal's hips ached, he wanted to open his eyes already. He pondered once again on opening them but stopped short as he felt the man's right hand shake against his shin as he held it. He was trembling again. From anticipation and excitement. He wished he could see the look on his face. Suddenly seduced by the idea of sharing this. After all, Hannibal had hardly the opportunity to share this type of glee.

Will forced his cock-head by holding his member firmly, all the while breathing loudly and moaning. When that didn't seem to work, struggling too much with holding up Hannibal's body and correcting his legs, he sighed loudly, slamming a fist against the mattress in an unsatisfying thump.

Hannibal heard him curse a few times, then the weight on the mattress left and the distinctive sound of naked feet leaving the room tickled him. He cautiously opened one eye. Satisfied to see he was in a room he opened the second and quickly assessed his environment.

The room was simply clad, a nice orange carpet was at the bed, a desk pilled with document and a random head ill conserved in formol. He wondered if this one had been the product of a tomb robbery or a murder, since the decomposition was advanced. Maybe he had dug it back out. He intended on getting up but the footsteps were back. He couldn't help the satisfaction this voyeurism was procuring him.

The smell of alcohol hit his sensitive nose, cheep bourbon. The pace was still tense, he guessed it hadn't been enough to take off the edge of his mounting frustration. Things hadn't gone according to plan. _If only he knew _he chuckled to himself.

Will was now wearing the man's tie around his own neck. The booze had taken some of his anger away, making him more docile. Swaying his hips he looked at himself in the mirror, smiling at the turquoise tie hanging between his pectoral. Taking another swig he picked the remote and chose some music to put on. He started dancing at the hard rock, moving his head and jerking his knees and elbows.

Hannibal watched him with a cracked eye, containing his smile. _What a sight!_ He was wild, free, naked and shameless. The man was still hard, cock bobbing with his moves and his chest was flush with exertion. Ribs lifting rapidly as he moved around frenetically.

In his moment of freedom, Hannibal noticed other jars, stacked further away. Some better preserved, others in complete state of putrifaction, oozing fluids and toxins, swarming with bateria. The smell being only secluded by the tight rubber around the glass.

Will continued swaying but decreased the intensity as he watched from the corner of his eye his captive's assumed dead body. He took himself in hand, groaning at his rigid aspect. He jizzed quickly, in front of the mirror, letting the semen glide along the reflective surface. From the mirror he could only see his slut from the neck down but it still made him shiver post-orgasm.

The music continued playing as he came down from his high, then on his knees. He started licking at his own cum, lapping at his reflection in the mirror.It took him a while, till nothing was left but the trail of his saliva. Once finished he looked at himself and moaned, then turned towards Hannibal.

He posted himself in front of him. A long moment past. Hannibal believed he was found at one point. 

He was mistaken. Will unclasped the liquor bottle, held it high above the corpse and poured its content on the gentleman's genitalia.

The cold liquid helped quell his arousal. What followed did not. Hannibal felt the burn of the alcohol, then the salve of a tongue lapping at him, ravenously so. There was a lot of groans and slobber involved. He focused on the imagery of the first head to prevent his impending erection. The smell of formal always having turned his stomach the wrong way.

'Mmh yes.'' he said sucking on his taught hairy balls, lapping at them like a dog, playing with the pubic hair. Hannibal bit the inside of his cheeks and bled.

The lips left him and he was grateful. The man returned to him though. He heard him inhale and exhale one time before feeling him seize his hips. He was rolled over on his stomach, then bent with his knees under his belly. Hannibal was glad to have his face in the mattress again, being able to twitch more liberally.

Will left and went to his desk. He opened jars. The smell of formol and decay sprung his erection forward when Hannibal's deflated. _Nasty boy_, he reflected. _Horrendous, scandalous, perfect, nasty boy_. Will hummed as he plunged his hand in the liquid and tested the face's substance. Seemingly satisfied he brought it back on the nightstand and proceeded to take the knife and use gooey parts of his trophe to lubricate his straining member.

He was spread again. He heard an animalistic whine before feeling the intent cock probing.The lube was somewhat efficient but foul, some tearing would be inevitable, no matter how much he concentrated on relaxing his muscles for necrophilia wasn't his cup of tea. The trickster was impatient, insistent, and apparently very aroused by decay as he plunged once again his hand in the jar to remove a head that he lay next to Hannibal's.

He was loud, loud enough for Hannibal to breath at a normal level. The bed was creaking, the popular rock band was pulsing. From time to time he stopped fucking him to smell his hand and pull at his grey-blond hair.

The man varied from singing the lyrics out loud while fucking him, to grunting and drooling like an animal (Hannibal was still waiting for a bite to come), or screaming.

His nails dug in the skin as he jutted in staccato like a power machine. Hannibal's cock was hard and leaking, only the bad smells were preventing him from coming to completion.

His position prevented the other from noticing though it wouldn't take long as his skin was warming and sweat was gathering on his forehead. Soon it would be on his back and there would be no hiding himself.

''I can't wait for you to spoil.'' As he said that he took hold of the smelly head and cannibalized a cheek, chewing loudly on the shrunken tissue. ''I'm going to stuff you under my bed, smell you decompose as I sleep. Maybe I'll even let you next to me, keep my cock warm in your mouth, get your teeth out and fuck it when I want.''

Hannibal knew he was looking at the severed head laying next to his as he said that. He felt the tremor of the fingers before he heard the groan and felt the warm liquid spilling in him. The man moaned from the back of his throat, probably hurting his vocal cords with the way he was bending himself.

''I warmed you all up didn't I ?'' he laughed.

He pulled out. Another picture, this time capturing the whole debauchery . ''I don't know if I'll find anybody as perfect as you.'' he sighed. He then left again, coming back with a knife that he used to carve a small opening inside his catpive's wrist. He drank from the wound like a hungry child, sucking shamelessly as the rock continued to blare. Hannibal felt a bit like mother lupa, though a cramping mother lupa.

He was shifted to his back, pushed flat, hair roughly pulled back. The bite at his neck was savage. Hannibal made a face that the other didn't see, as he was buried in the meat of his neck. ''Fuck I'm hard again.'' he heard above him,

Hannibal concentrated on the breathing of the man to keep himself still, pained little whines as he masturbated above his corpse. ''Can't wait for you to get nice and purple in the back'', ''Just like that, just like that'' he moaned, spilling over his thighs. The warm liquid arising goose bumps on his skin. Hannibal cursed the natural reaction. Though his admirer had left again, frantic. Still apparently unsettled.

He was back in minutes, smelling again like alcohol, the knife was picked up from the ground where it had fallen. Hannibal carefully slit an eye open. The dark haired predator was sliding towards his feet, hands gliding along his bones. The grin he had on his face made him clench the sheets involuntarily. How he regretted of having been deprived of that sight for these shared moments.

When the knife was pressed against his Achilles tendon Hannibal drew the line : ''I think that's quite enough isn't it ?''

The wide eyed expression it earned him pleased his ego. After all the trickster had been tricked. The former had fallen off the bed in surprise. The knife was still clutched in his hands tightly. He was apparently going through a motion, for his body was frozen and his eyes were leaving for left than right in a loop.

''There's not really much to think about. You have to kill your witnesses dear, or they will tattle on you.'' he wisely said. 

The man's cheeks burned, he aborted a gesture to hide his nudity, ashamed of his state. The humiliation he felt pulled at his guts and gripped his throat. He circled the bed, convinced this would be over soon.

Hannibal stayed splayed on his back, only his eyes were moving as to observe the wrathful stranger approach. He jumped on him but missed pathetically as Hannibal rolled away. That only served to fuel his furry, Hannibal was quite amused, still his head was heavy. He could feel his heartbeat in his skull now that he had moved. Hannibal got up, now standing in front of the bed where the ''Brit'' was bunching his muscles to jump at him again.

''Or perhaps we can socialize, now that it is obvious that we share a common pass time.'' He ducked a knife slash, however he failed to picture him casting it away to favor his hands. He got tackled on the ground, back burning against the carpet as he glided on it. They grappled for a while, the scared skittish man had stepped aside in favor of a feral being. Their elbows and forearms clashed as their fingers endeavored to clutch an catch, finally Hannibal managed to overthrow him by swinging his hips and catching his legs with his own. Now on top he quickly delivered a punch to his assailant's diaphragm, cutting his air flow for a short instant, enough for him to get disentangled.

He stood as the other struggled to get back up as his chest heaved. Now that he was no longer pretending, he was quite fully hard.

''My what beautiful stormy eyes. I regret not having seen your expression as you fucked me.'' he casually said, smiling properly. He remained poised where the other looked uncouth and unmanageable. ''Darling don't be mad at me'' he placated as he saw the man tensing his legs again.

''Could you blame me for watching you take your pleasure ?'' when an answer didn't come he pressed on, ''haven't you watched our fellow men copulate or pleasure themselves, have you never felt a thrill at a stolen glimpse of their naked pleasures ?''

Hannibal ducked again and stepped away as to keep at kicking distance. Both of them were breathing hard, their feet digging in the carpet's mush. ''You're not scared of me telling on you one bit!'' he laughed as he observed the man reading him. ''You're just angry I saw you debasing yourself.''

The necrophiliac snarled, Hannibal having successfully gotten a rise out of him. When he lunged forward yet again, Hannibal bent to kick at his knee, making the other fall in his arms. He smacked his head as he fell to the ground, preventing him from breaking the fall.

Hannibal maintained him on the ground with a knee to the spine and a wrist cruelly twisted behind his back. ''Now why don't you offer me some tea like a civilized host ? I'm done playing.'' he tutted. 

That seemed to calm the man. He slowly sat as he was freed, looking up at Hannibal who was standing. He seemed troubled, yet admirative as he seemed to finally grasp that truly he wasn't the only predator in the room.

He looked back at the heads on his desk and bed, then at Hannibal. Then back at the heads again.

''Though I'm flattered you wanted to have me in your personal museum, I'm afraid I like my head well seated on my shoulders.'' Hannibal commented distractedly as he looked around.

The stranger caught on, slowly getting up he pulled on some boxers before mumbling : ''they're in the bag at the entrance.''

When both were dressed and Hannibal's tie was rightfully returned to his neck, Will couldn't help stare at the hard buldge still valiantly sported by his entended prey. Hannibal quirked an eyebrow so he diverted the intention:

''I don't have any tea...'' he muttured.

Hannibal looked him up and down, smiling he noted the answering hardon. ''Well I did offer to take you to that avant garde café.'' he lightly said. ''However'' he added, ''as I am quite sore I think you owe it to me to pay the tab.''

**Epiologue**

He opened the door, and the man, incredulous and curious followed him out. Marching in the streets at the side of his very alive, very content victim.


End file.
